A call for the prejudice of love
January 23, 2014
For some years now my wife and I have used the services of a local odd-job man named Stanley. Minor electric work, some gardening, a cupboard restored or a drawer fixed. Call Stanley. We trusted him utterly, and if we were out we would leave the door open for him and his cash payment on the kitchen table. He didn’t charge much, did first-class work, and was a kind, intelligent, interesting man. He was, I suppose, almost part of the family in that the children all knew and liked him and we rather relied on him.